


Lady Maxson

by whatthecinnamontoastfuck



Series: Brotherhood of Feels [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Depression, Elder Maxson gets married, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Proctor Teagan FUCKS, Rare Pairings, Rhys is a Paladin now, Swearing, The Prydwen (Fallout 4), excessive smoking of cigarettes, i have no fucking clue, plot is heavily based on Arthurian legend, poor Paladin Brandis is touch starved, sole survivor is Shaun's cousin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthecinnamontoastfuck/pseuds/whatthecinnamontoastfuck
Summary: After the fall of the Institute, it is decided that the continuation of the Maxson bloodline is of immediate importance.
Relationships: Arthur Maxson/Scribe Haylen
Series: Brotherhood of Feels [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912621
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys, now a Paladin, is upset when he discoveres the identity of Lady Maxson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never knew you, you never knew me
> 
> Say hello goodbye
> 
> (Say Hello, Wave Goodbye, by Soft Cell)

_The Prydwen_

Paladin Rhys, registration RS-104P, Personal log entry no. 427a

_So, that’s why Scribe Haylen didn’t come back from the Prydwen. She’s no longer Scribe Haylen, but Lady Maxson. I don’t know how to feel about this…… I suppose it’s a step forward for the Brotherhood, but it’s strange being at the Police Station without her. We served together in the Recon Team from the very beginning, and now I’m the only one left. I suppose I won’t be seeing her anymore. Of every sister in the whole damn Brotherhood, why did it have to be her? Why? Is she happy? Has she forgotten all about me? It… it doesn’t matter now. I hope this radstorm clears soon.. I want to get off of this goddamn tub asap. I also hope I don’t end up on report. I can’t believe I walked in on them like that. I don’t know if I should be putting this in my log but… oh well…_   
_I’d gone onto the forecastle to smoke a cigarette. It’s very private there, hardly anyone uses it.. It has a wide view of the Commonwealth. But I’m getting off track here. I guess Maxson and Haylen -or whatever she should be called now- had the same idea. People are always busting in on him in his quarters, he’s always needed for something or another. I mean there wasn’t much to see, she was leaning forward on the railing, like you would if you were admiring the view. He still had his battlecoat on, but even an idiot could see that they were.. uhh… fucking. The worst part was that he must’ve heard me open the door. Before I could leave, he turned his head round and looked me in the eye. He didn’t even stop what he was doing, just… glared. Takes a hell of a lot of confidence to do that - but he’s Elder, after all. I just shut the door and left. I don’t think Haylen noticed, or saw, thank God._

…

“What’s the matter, Paladin? You look like you’ve just spotted a deathclaw on patrol.” 

Proctor Ingram said as she placed the shoulder piece of a T-60 suit into the wooden transport crate. A scribe stood by, meticulously ticking off each piece on his clipboard. Rhys could have handled the packing of the crates himself, but Ingram insisted. She was extremely thorough when it came to caring for power armour.

_Ugh, I miss being out in the field. He thought. This is boring._

Rhys had not been posted to the Prydwen for a long while. Even after the fall of the Institute, he was still serving at Cambridge Police Station, although as the new Paladin in charge rather than a common recon Knight - and had only been called to the Prydwen to oversee the pick-up of an important shipment of power armour parts from Ingram’s workshop. But due to a spell of poor Commonwealth weather he was held up there until a vertibird could be safely dispatched.

Proctor Ingram looked at the him questioningly, but when he remained silent, she shrugged.

“Suit yourself. But you won’t end up on report. If that was the case, half the damn tub would be doing pushups day and night.”

“Proctor?” Rhys said, shifting uncomfortably.

“I recognise that look on your face. It feels like every damn day some poor soldier walks in on Maxson, and they think they’re going to get thrown off the Prydwen.” She smirked, but quickly regained her professionalism.

“That’s everything. You can get these off to Cambridge as soon as the weather holds up.”

“Thank you, Proctor. I’ll get going.”

The Scribe, who had been in charge of the clipboard, turned to Ingram. 

“That Knight -I mean, Paladin - I think he was with Recon Squad Gladius. In fact, I think he’s the only one left who was a part of it.”

“Really? It’s a small world, isn’t it. He was promoted to Paladin a few months back, wasn’t he?”

“What you said about Maxson-“

“What about it? If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do, not stand about gossiping about the Elder.” 

“What I meant to say, Proctor, was that Lady Maxson served with him, when she was a Scribe, at the Cambridge Police Station. The Brotherhood’s successes in the Commonwealth are partly thanks to the recon team.”

“Oh. Now that is awkward.” Said Ingram.

_..._

_The following day_

“Any personnel who have not completed their annual medical evaluation should report to Knight-Captain Cade immediately to schedule an examination.”

_Oh fuck,_ thought Paladin Rhys. He was due to leave the Prydwen with the armour parts later that day, and he was almost overdue an appointment. The awful weather had passed, and a vertibird had been cleared for take-off to Cambridge shortly.

He stored his personal log holodisk in his luggage pack and headed down to the sick bay. Hopefully Knight-Captain Cade had the time to give him a once-over before he headed out. _It wont’t take long,_ he thought. _I’m fine._ With most of the fighting over, the ship’s doctor had much less work on his hands.

As he approached the door he paused for a moment. Over the constant rumbling of the engines and the clanking of Power Armour he could hear talking coming from the sickbay.. 

“We’ll get this blood sample off to Scribe Neriah presently. She’ll be able to give you a result in no time. How are you feeling, Lady Maxson? Any unusual symptoms?”

“I feel… sick. Like after a vertibird ride in bad weather.” Came Scribe Haylen, no, Lady Maxson’s, voice. Knight-Captain Cade chuckled. 

“Well, we are on an airship. But you’ve been on Prydwen for a while, haven’t you? I don’t recall you having this issue before. Radiation or turbulence, or even a bad can of Cram are the usual culprits, but you don’t seem to have any symptoms of radiation poisoning. Let’s see.. no blood pooling in the gums… No signs of anaemia… I think we’re fine. I’ll come deliver the results personally as soon as they are available. Normally I’d send a scribe, but…”

Rhys had heard enough. As he turned and walked away, his heart lurched. 

_Dammit, I may as well pretend I forgot about my medical exam. I can’t go in there, not now! I’l wait around in the mess hall for a bit and then go talk to Cade after she’s gone. I’ve got all day, there’s nothing for me to do here._

Rhys took his seat at the bar and helped himself to a hot bowl of noodles. He had heard that the ones in Diamond City were tastier, but he’d never got the chance to visit.

“Never did like this rustbucket. Oh, sure, the Prydwen's a fine ship, but put me in the field any day.”

_Oh God, not Paladin Brandis again. Does that old coot ever shut up?_ Thought Rhys as the older Paladin sat next to him to eat. After a few minutes of polite conversation, Rhys made his excuses and went to the recreational terminal on the upper deck. He had quite forgotten about arranging an appointment in the sickbay, and instead occupied himself with a game of Red Menace. But fate doesn’t let any soul off the hook so easily.

_..._

_later that afternoon_

As he logged into the terminal, Proctor Ingram’s stern message appeared on the screen.

_Feel free to use this terminal to unwind. I've disconnected it from the Prydwen's mainframe, but keep it clean or I'm shutting it down permanently. If you've got a problem with that, keep it to yourself._

He was vaguely aware of the jolly chattering of the Squires in the background as he loaded the holodisk game into the slot.

“On patrol of the deck, ma’am. It’s just me, ma’am. Cade says I can’t do any training. I dropped an ammo crate on my toes, ma’am.”

Followed by, “I found this thing on a field mission. I kept it because a Scribe told me it’s a game, but it doesn’t look very fun. Do you know what it is, ma’am? Normally I play hologames on the recreational terminal over there, but there’s been a Paladin playing on it for over ten minutes, ma’am.”  
  
He twisted his head around, and saw the squire sat at the common area table, clutching what appeared to be a battered old chess board. They were talking to someone, whoever it was wore a set of standard Brotherhood fatigues, and were seated with their back turned.

_Hmph,_ he thought. _Haylen used to love chess. I never had the heart to tell her that I just played to see her smile, when I’d rather be out shooting ferals with my laser rifle. I wonder if she still plays it…_

He turned his attention back to the terminal, when all of a sudden, he heard footsteps approach behind him. 

“Rhys? Is that really you?”

_Dammit, she’s here. She does still play chess after all, with the squires! Why didn’t I realise? Why can’t I just have some peace and quiet for once?_

He turned around to find her stood behind him, smoking a cigarette.

_Her rank is irregular now, I suppose. Or is she still a Scribe?_ Thought Rhys.

She smiled. “Good to see you again… how’s everything at the Police Station, big guy? I heard you got a promotion.” She smiled.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Haylen?"

“Tell you what, exactly?” She sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke. 

“But you just.. disappeared. I thought you’d just been reassigned, but I didn’t get a note. I was worried.. you might have deserted from the Brotherhood… I heard you talking in Cade’s office earlier. What was that about?”

“Damn, you talk more than the Squires now… and that’s _none_ of your business, big guy.” She said.

And so, Paladin Rhys accompanied the shipment of Power Armour parts on the Vertibird flight back to Cambridge Police Station as scheduled, and the two would, for the rest of their lives, never speak with each other again.

…

_Cambridge Police Station_

A few months later, two Squires had been sent to Cambridge Police Station as part of a field assignment. 

_They’re so damn annoying, even if they are the future of the Brotherhood. At least they like shooting ghouls as much as I do. We’re all expected to make children at some point, if we can, ugh._ Thought Rhys, as the Squires scampered around the station asking innumerable questions of everyone.

That evening, he assigned himself to the sentry post. He stood out in the cold, alone on the high barricade around the station, watching for enemies or anything else suspicious. Although most people complained about that particular assignment, and he could have assigned someone of a lower rank to do it, Rhys enjoyed the peace and quiet. Since his relatively recent promotion to Paladin, he was always in demand, and it felt strange to be giving orders rather than just following them.   
The town of Cambridge had long since been cleared of hostiles, and he saw nothing but a few skittish wild dogs, not worth shooting, that sniffed around the piles of rubble and fled from the beams of the searchlights. Suddenly, one of the Squires climbed up the ladder to join him.

_Ugh, that almost gave me a fright. What does the little shit want now?_

”What the hell are you doing out here?” He snapped. “Get back inside the Police Station. That’s an order.” He turned back to his post.

“Wait, are you Paladin Rhys? I was told to give you this.” Instead of leaving, like he had asked, the Squire produced a holotape from one of the many pockets on the front of their uniform, and held it out to Rhys. Reluctantly, he took it, then looked suspiciously at the Squire.

_Is this some sort of joke? Damn, I’ll load the thing into a terminal later._

“What’s this? Who sent it? This isn’t an official communication.”

The Squire hesitated for a moment, before whispering, “I was told not to say- uhh… it’s from Lady Maxson. She said you were both in Recon Squad Gladius years ago and she wanted you to have it. I haven’t read it, Sir. I’ll go now.” And before Rhys could question him further, he jumped down the ladder, ran up the steps to the Police station and was gone.  
…

That night, Rhys sat in front of the old Police office terminal in the back room, which was now his office, and loaded the tape before peering at the black and green RobCo screen.

_Dear Rhys,_   
_A squire should have brought this message to you, please remember to thank him. He likes Nuka-Cola. I don’t know if you’ll end up actually receiving this, and I needn’t add that it’s for your eyes only, but anyway… I was a complete ass for not explaining some things to you when we met on the Prydwen back in March, but it’s too late now. You seemed upset, and I understand. Maybe I’ve made a terrible mistake… maybe I should’ve just carried on being an ordinary Brotherhood field scribe, cleaning haptic drives all day, but it all happened so quickly… I was on the Prydwen for a supply run and we met in Scribe Neriah’s lab - I’m sure you remember the dead deathclaw everyone was going on and on about. I still have no idea why he wanted to marry me in particular. I’m sure there’s going to be a shitstorm with the other Chapters when we return to the Citadel… Oh, and about what you overheard in the sickbay - Cade was doing a bloodtest for… nevermind. I don’t have to spell it out, do I? Surely you’re not that dumb, otherwise Maxson wouldn’t have made you a Paladin. Just forget about me - I don’t think I’ll ever see you again, big guy. Not that there was ever anything between us after all. There’s only room for Brotherhood in your life so it doesn’t matter, does it?_   
_I hope you’re ok._   
_Haylen._

Rhys rolled his eyes and ejected the holotape from the terminal.

_Well, that was pointless.I feel like chucking the damn thing into Walden Pond. I will, for everyone’s sakes. Tomorrow._ He thought angrily as he shoved the holotape back into his pocket. 

“Damn, all this dust’s getting in my eyes again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the Elder found his Lady Maxson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronologically, this chapter takes place before Chapter One. The first chapter was more of an introduction/prologue, really. The story will be a bit slower paced from here on out. It's ending up longer than I anticipated! Also, the Prydwen's interior will be sort of different from how it is in-game as I found it very unrealistic for an airship (like, where the hell do they pee?)

_In the months following the destruction of the Institute, life on the Prydwen was mostly quiet, until the Council of Elders, and Arthur himself, decided that the matter of the continuation of the Maxson bloodline was a priority. Although it was not exactly spread about, there were no secrets in the Brotherhood, and soon everyone was speculating about the possibility of a Lady Maxson._

_One cold, dull morning in the November of 2289, High Elder Arthur Maxson decided to pay a visit to the Prydwen’s Stowage Depot._

_“I need to talk to you… about something of a rather personal nature. I trust you’ll keep this in confidence, Teagan. You’ve probably already heard about my intentions to marry. There are no secrets in the Brotherhood.”_

_“Well, I don’t know what help a quartermaster locked in a cage can be, Arthur. But I’m always here for you.” Said Teagan, leaning forward on the counter._

_“I know this is awkward, Proctor, and goes above and beyond your normal duties to the Brotherhood, but the truth is - you know almost everyone. You interact with those of all ranks, on an informal level, and not just as their commanding officer. You must be able to make some suggestions. I want to move quickly, before those West Coast cultists hear about this. We have enough to deal with already.”_

_“So, you’ll have me playing matchmaker, then? In that case, come back in a week or so. I’m sure I can find someone who’ll put a smile on your face.”_

_“Thank you, Teagan. You’ve already worked miracles, I know I can count on you. ”_

_“I just hope you’re not going to ask me to marry you, Arthur.” Came Ingram’s snarky voice from Armour Bay 1, where she was currently occupied by the repair of a T-60 suit with an enormous dent in the left leg._ _For a moment, her face wore its usual scowl, but before Arthur could speak, she laughed and broke out in a wicked grin._

_“Thought I was serious, didn’t you? Good luck, anyhow.” Without another word, she shrugged, turned around and continued working on her repairs._

...

“Step forward, Scribe. What brings you to me today? Even though I’m still locked in here, I promise that I won’t bite.” Said Proctor Teagan, who was, as always, polishing his store counter with a cloth.

“Just a supply run, Teagan. Scribe Haylen, Cambridge Police Station.” 

It’s probably the shiniest sheet of metal in the whole damn Commonwealth by now, thought the Scribe as she slipped the official resupply request, signed by the Paladin in charge of her outpost, over the counter and into the ‘cage’. After dear Danse’s fall from grace, Maxson had granted Knight Rhys the rank of Paladin and put him in charge of the Cambridge region.   
Teagan peered at the slip briefly.

“I should have everything you need. We’ve got a lifetime supply of Fusion Cells from the synth remains. The ones that weren’t squashed flat by Liberty Prime, at least. How are things at the Station?” Teagan said, neatly folding his polishing cloth.

“There's been no trouble. It’s been my posting since before the Prydwen arrived… There’s plenty of tech to work on, and it seems like there’s more troops being flown in every day. I suppose it’ll be the Brotherhood's main base in the Commonwealth before long. At least we don’t have to worry about being overrun by ghouls anymore.” Haylen smiled, before standing back, absentmindedly adjusting the goggles on her Field Scribe's hood while she waited for Proctor Teagan to fill her order.

The Stowage Depot was unusually quiet today, save for a Knight hammering away for some unknown purpose at the workbench in the corner, and an engineering scribe who was peering at his clipboard with the intensity of someone who had misplaced their glasses. Down the hall, Proctor Ingram and her team were working working diligently in the repairs bay. It had been a while since she’d been sent on a supply run, and she’d enjoyed the vertibird’s-eye view of Cambridge, which had within the past year gained yet another glowing crater. Being on the Prydwen made a pleasant change from the tedious work of cleaning haptic drives in a musty corner all day.

 _Rhys’ll probably end up sitting on my tech with his fat ass while I’m gone. The bloodthirsty maniac’s probably missing me already, even though he’ll never admit to it._ She thought.

Meanwhile, Proctor Teagan seemed to have quite forgotten about the five crates of Fusion Cells he was _supposed_ to be getting ready, and was instead typing away on his terminal. On the desk next to it, Scribe Haylen could spy a bottle of whisky and several empty shot glasses.  
…

In the Elder’s quarters, Arthur logged into his terminal. A message from the Prydwen Internal Network had appeared on the ubiquitous green and black RobCo screen.

FR: TEAGAN  
TO: MAXSON

_Arthur. There’s someone I’d like you to meet, as per your requests. She’s a Scribe. Hopefully they’ll put a smile on your face. You can look her up in the database at your convenience. Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you._

Maxson stood up, straightened and re-straightened his flight suit collar and poured himself a shot of whisky.  
  
_I’m going to end up like Teagan at this rate,_ He thought. _Goddammit, I hope he isn’t drunk this morning. Still, this is better than meeting ‘candidates’ picked for me at some stilted formal meeting with the other Chapters back in the Citadel._

“Paladin Brandis.” Said Maxson, “Would you accompany me? Proctor Teagan has arranged for me to meet someone.”

“Of course, Elder.”  
…

“Proctor?” Said Haylen after waiting for a few minutes.

_I can’t hang around the Depot all day. What’s taking so damn long? Has he been drinking again?_

“I’d appreciate your patience, sister. I couldn’t find the entry in the inventory. One moment.” 

He stepped back from the terminal and began busying himself with the ammunition boxes and crates that filled his ‘cage’. He returned with a large wooden crate clearly labeled FUSION CELLS.

“Have you seen the Deathclaw?”

“The _what_?”

“You don’t know? In Scribe Neriah’s lab. Oh, no, no, not a live one. I’m only teasing you, Scribe.” He added quickly, smirking at the alarmed look on Haylen’s face. 

“You should take a look if you’ve got the time -it’s quite a sight, I’m sure it’ll put a smile on your face. I could make some choice weapons out of the claws if I can wrestle them off of Neriah’s team. They’re having a field day up there! Say, I’ll get these crates ready for loading while you’re gone.”

“Alright, Proctor. I’ll bite. The only time I’ve seen a ‘claw was south of Waypoint Echo, when we were on nuke retrieval. It was quite far away, though.” She said.

 _What’s up with him today? I’ll pick up the crates later, then. I’ve got to go see what all this damn fuss is about now._ Haylen thought as she made her way up the narrow metal stairs to Scribe Neriah’s area of airship. The other members of the crew were more than happy to tell her the details.

It transpired that earlier that week, a lucky Paladin named Larsen had killed a massive male Deathclaw that attacked the field station near Mass Pike, and the carcass was promptly hauled up to the Prydwen by a vertibird, much to the delight of Scribe Neriah. By that time, her laboratory was was looking glaringly empty. The studies of the Super Mutant and Synth remains had long since been completed, and several weeks earlier her mole rats unfortunately expired. Elder Maxson had, much to the relief of the crew, denied her request for more mole rats.

It seemed like the whole crew, including Arthur himself, who usually liked to complain about Neriah’s work, were now making excuses to crowd around, to stare at the claws, the teeth, the horns - as terrifying in death as in life. Some of the more bold tried to prod and poke, and were promptly banned from the lab. Scribe Haylen noticed with surprise that Elder Maxson himself was indeed present, standing near one of the creature’s massive forelegs, looking very serious, along with the now-renowned Paladin Brandis, one of his inner circle since his return from the bunker, who was smoking a cigarette and also had a rather serious expression on his face. 

Proctor Ingram even had come up from her repairs workshop to look at it, bringing along a young Squire who had been assigned to observe her work, having shown an early aptitude for mechanics.

“Is it dead, ma’am?” She said, reaching out to poke the creature’s massive blackish-green tail, eyes wide.

“No, it’s just sleeping.” Said Ingram dryly.

Letting out a squeak, the Squire leaped back and hid behind her. The surrounding crew all smirked to themselves.

“I just hope you’re going to let the mess hall have some of the damn thing. Deathclaw steak sure beats fried Cram day in, day out.” Said Ingram, as she watched Scribe Neriah take careful measurements of the creature’s horns. An Initiate scribe noted the measurements on a clipboard. 

“Oh, everyone seems to want a piece of the specimen. Proctor Teagan’s got his eye on the forelegs- I think he wants to make Deathclaw-gauntlets, though they’re not exactly regulation weapons if I’m not mistaken. You know, I had actually requested more live mole rats. Instead, Maxson gave permission to bring this specimen aboard before I’d even been told about it! It’s a truly incredible opportunity for science! There, that should do it..”

Paladin Brandis said slowly, before inhaling from his cigarette. “Tell me, have you ever seen a Deathclaw nest? Now that’s a sight to behold..”

“You’ve got my attention, Paladin.” Said Scribe Neriah, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. Brandis’ vast field knowledge never ceased to amaze the rest of the Brotherhood, and they always listened eagerly to his stories, which he seldom told freely.

“Well, Deathclaws build a nest and re-uses it every spring. The mother guards the eggs and young. I passed a nest in Lynn woods… it was very close to the road. There was a dead Brahmin and caravan guards… I had the sense to get away quickly. If you don’t provoke a nesting Deathclaw, or get too close, it’ll leave you alone.”

Scribe Neriah stood up, brushing down the front of her robe before tucking the measuring tape into her pocket. She looked thoughtful as she quickly scribbled some notes on her clipboard. “That explains many seemingly random attacks on patrols in the past. I’ll have to write a report, so we can arrange a briefing for field missions.”

“Well, the crew certainly seem to like it.” Said Ingram, raising her eyebrows. “I never would have thought a goddamned dead deathclaw would do so much for morale. My team won’t stop talking about it. I don’t think they could handle any more excitement-” Ingram’s words were cut short with an eruption of shouting, but no gunfire, coming from the lower deck of the airship.

“What the hell’s going on down there?”

Meanwhile, down in the sickbay, Knight-Captain Cade looked up from his desk, only to see two wide-eyed knights carrying in a female Paladin, looking unwell but apparently uninjured, on a stretcher. Unlike the rest of the crew, he had not gone up to stare at the dead Deathclaw, and was instead carefully sorting through bottles of Rad-X and squishy blood packs of Rad-Away. With most of the fighting over, he had a lot less work on his hands. 

“Doc, we’ve got an emergency here! It’s the Paladin! She was on guard duty- I mean, she was fine a minute ago! We had to help her out of her Power Armour.”

“Calm down, Brothers. She’s in good hands. I would ask what happened, but you’ve already told me. Hey, don’t just stand there!”

The two knights helped the ship’s doctor lift the Paladin, who appeared to have fainted, onto the trolley, before continuing to hover around.

“Dismissed. And tell the rest of the crew to stay out.” Cade prompted.

...

A few minutes later, a stern announcement from Lancer-Captain Kells blared out over the airship’s intercom system. 

_This is a notice to all personnel. Please return to your duties immediately and refrain from entering the sick bay. That is all._

“Hmm, don’t know what that was all about.” Ingram shrugged. “Anyway, I’d better get back to the armour bay. Squire?” She said. The Squire, who seemed oblivious to all the commotion, had spent the last few minutes listening wide-eyed to Paladin Brandis’s story, all while edging closer to the ‘sleeping’ deathclaw’s head to look at the massive yellow teeth.

“Yes, Ma’am!” She squeaked, following the Prydwen’s head engineer down the staircase like a duckling behind the mother duck. The other Knights and Scribes slowly began to disperse, leaving the lab empty, save for Scribe Haylen, Elder Maxson, Paladin Brandis, and of course, Scribe Neriah herself, who was now busy peering into a microscope in the corner.

Maxson glanced in Scribe Haylen’s direction, and she swallowed nervously.

 _When was the last time I’ve spoken to him in person?_ She thought. _That’s right, it was just before I left the Capital Wasteland with Recon Squad Gladius. Damn, it feels like such a long time ago now. Almost all the other members of our squad - they’re all gone._

“Ad Victoriam, Elder.”

“Ad Victoriam. Are you Scribe Haylen?” He said, motioning for her to come over. She had to walk around the deathclaw, stepping carefully over the tip of the tail, almost tripping over it.

“Affirmative. I served with Reconnaissance Squad Gladius, Cambridge Police Station. I’m a Field Scribe.” She said, although she couldn’t help feeling that he already knew that.

Arthur nodded approvingly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks for reading! To be continued....
> 
> (there was a cameo of the main character of the next part of the series in this installment!)


	3. Chapter 3

_Scribe Haylen, registration HN-118FS, personal log entry no 333a, 2289_

_Well, what I thought was going to be a routine supply run for the Police Station got very… interesting. I mean, where do I start? That vault-dweller I met all that time ago in Cambridge, Paladin Mags, fainted on duty and found out that she’s pregnant. Proctor Teagan is the father, or so I’ve heard, but surely not? And there was a goddamned deathclaw carcass in Scribe Neriah’s lab. The Elder was there too, along with Paladin Brandis. He’s certainly cleaned up well since he was pulled out of that bunker up north. Arthur invited me to an audience - tomorrow afternoon. Why? Shit, I hope it’s not about dear Paladin D- ugh, nevermind._

As she was about to finish typing, she paused, a thoughtful look on her face. _Dammit, I’ll say everything. It needs to be said. Elder Maxson wants to court me. I’m glad I didn’t put it in my log, but why did he inform me of this, five minutes after meeting me, in front of a dead Deathclaw? What, is that supposed to be good luck or something? Damn. Rhys’ll be pissed off when he hears about this._

Haylen sighed and finally tucked her holotape into her rucksack, before tugging off her Field Scribe’s hood and goggles. She made her way up one of the many walkways, resigning herself to spending the night staring upwards at the shadowy interior of the Prydwen. The airship’s sleeping quarters were cramped, consisting of hammocks strung from high up on the inner shell of the airship, and accessed by a network of narrow ladders. She much preferred the steel-frame, mattress beds they had back at the Police Station. 

_Even if Rhys did spend every night snoring like an enraged Brahmin._ She thought as she lay back on the rough green fabric.

Still, the Prydwen itself was far from quiet, and she could hear the rumbling of the engines, the clanking footsteps of power armour on another deck, and even the mewing of the radgulls that had taken to perching on the airship’s vast metal exterior. They were docked right on the coastline, after all, and apparently the maintenance team had even discovered a nest tucked away on the rain hood of one of the air vents. It had been allowed to stay on the insistence of Ingram’s engineering apprentice - the same poor Squire who was still under the illusion that the dead deathclaw was, in fact, ‘sleeping’.

_Damn. I should get some sleep._

…

_6:00 AM_

_The Prydwen_

Haylen rose early the next morning - woken by her alarm, 6:00 AM on the dot, even though she wasn’t supposed to be meeting Arthur until 12:30 that day.

_Enough time to polish my boots and get a fresh uniform and a shower, I should hope. I should probably go to the mess hall too, but I don’t feel like it. Damn. I want to go back to Cambridge._

The Prydwen’s showers were probably the only source of hot running water in the whole Commonwealth, and it was a massive change from the rather sorry looking rag and tin bucket - which actually had holes in it - that they used in the back room of the Police Station.

 _Well, the Institute must’ve had hot water, but they’re just a glowing, smoking crater now. I’m going to ignore the fact that the hot water is only made possible by running the pipes past the damn fusion engines. I’ve seen Ingram’s schematics myself._ She thought as she wet her hair under the stream of water, enjoying the smell of the coal-tar soap - another relative luxury. 

The soap was thankfully enough to block out the overpowering stink of burnt Cram, power-armour grease, and testosterone which seemed to have penetrated every corner of the ship. It made Haylen long for a breath of fresh air, and she was still eternally grateful that she had been out in the field for the entirety of her tour of the Commonwealth.

The long row of showers were fairly busy, with the typical Brotherhood crowd of scarred, lean bodies, and her cheeks burned at the thought that anyone could have overheard anything from yesterday.

But fortunately, it appeared that the ‘fainting Paladin incident’ made up the main topic of conversation among the crew that morning, and Haylen could see why. Life on the Prydwen was notoriously dull, even more so since the end of the war.

“Are you for real, Lucia?”

“Yeah, Clarke! Logistics sent me up here to pick up a crate of… copper wire, I think? Or was it vacuum tubes? Anyway, there’s definitely something going on between them.” Knight Lucia paused for a moment.

“ _What_? Teagan? With a Paladin? Oh come on, it looks like you’ve just lost the plot from counting bullets morning till night every fucking day! You expect me to believe a load of brahminshit like that?”

“Dammit, I’m serious! I can’t remember her name… you know, grey hair, big scar on her face…” the Knight gestured expressively, sending soap bubbles flying about as she spoke. “…and really, there’s only one bed in there.” Lucia said, frowning at the Initiate as she turned off the faucet. Clarke simply pulled a face and continued washing.

“I think Gavil’s just pulling your leg. Let me guess, that miserable fuck told you he’s seen Proctor Teagan bending her over the damn counter! He wishes.” Clarke rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, Gavil wouldn’t say that! I swear, that’s the grossest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth, Clarke!” Lucia snapped as she made her way across the cold, wet steel floor to her locker in order to retrieve her towel. She was seemingly unaware that Clarke’s sad eyes trailed after her the moment her back was turned.

Haylen continued to wash her hair, trying to appear oblivious to her Brothers-and-Sisters-in-Steel’s ‘intellectual’ conversations. All the build up of grease and dirt was proving more difficult to eradicate than she’d been expecting, and she was trying her level best to look presentable.

 _Damn. Well, here goes my date with the Elder. What the fuck is really going on her? Surely he’s not so hard up for marriage candidates that he’s resorted to courting random Field Scribes? If this is about Danse, why don’t they just bring me up on charges?_ She pushed the thought away as she opened her locker.

_12:21_

_Elder’s Quarters, The Prydwen_

Arthur Maxson looked at his face reflected in the mirror above his bathroom sink, carefully dabbing cologne on his neck. 

He could hear Paladin Mags chatting with Paladin Brandis in the next room, having some in-depth but, to Arthur’s tactical ear, rather boring discussion about various species of wild dogs.

_Paladin Mags would have made a perfect Lady Maxson. She’s even got a matching scar on her face - from a deathclaw. After everything she went through, the horror of this world, was Teagan the first person to show her human kindness, to take an interest in her as a person? If I had been there for her in her darkest moments, would she be with me now, carrying my child? I don’t think I’ll ever know if he’s just a sleazy asshole, or if what they have is… true love._

He took another sip of whiskey.

_Hmmph. I’ve never been in love._

He straightened and re-straightened the collar on his black jumpsuit - a nervous habit of his. His battlecoat was hanging on the back of the door, and he retrieved it and slipped it on. They were indoors, of course, but the heavy weight of the leather and armour plating calmed him. 

_Damn, I’m worse than some Knights are with their power armour. We’re all like so many children, clinging to a toy yao guai as if our lives depended on it._ Thought the Elder. _Is the Scribe here yet? Is she even going to turn up? I should… admit to myself that I have no idea what I’m doing._

_12:27_

_Command Deck Level, The Prydwen_  
  
The mere thought of seeing Maxson’s private quarters was enough to make Haylen blush. She pushed the thought away as she knocked on the door, and absentmindedly adjusted and re-adjusted the goggles on her Field Scribe’s hat.

_Dammit, Should I have worn the hood, or not? We’re indoors, after all._

After a moment, the metal door opened, and Haylen couldn’t help but smile as she stepped through the door. As it were, Maxson’s quarters consisted of several rooms, rather like an apartment, with a large sitting room where he could receive guests. 

_Why did I always think the High Elder just had a cupboard-sized bedroom like dear Danse did? Now that would have been awkward. Oh, Paladin Mags is here!_

“Good to see you! Damn, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s things over at the Police station? Managing alright without me, huh?” Mags said with a grin, as she threw her scrawny arms around her. Brandis held the door open, looking slightly concerned at Mag’s sudden movement. 

Paladin Mags was wearing, to Haylen’s surprise, a set of engineer’s fatigues, rather than the black jumpsuit reserved for the higher ranks. The heavy scent of whiskey and smoke and armour grease clung to her, but her usually sad eyes were bright and she seemed, for the want of a better word, happy. 

After a moment, Mags released her. She then raised her flip lighter to the unlit cigarette that seemed to be perpetually hanging out of her mouth ever since the day they’d first met, only to stop herself at the last moment.

“Hey, don’t just stand there! I heard all about yesterday… well, is it true?” Haylen said, unable to contain her curiosity. She certainly doesn’t seem unwell.

“What? Oh, yeah. There are no secrets in the Brotherhood, right? Well, that didn’t take long. Everyone knows in, what, 24 hours? Haha!” Mags said, raising a thickly scarred eyebrow, before flushing slightly. 

Paladin Brandis, now the Elder’s closest companion, closed the door and began busying himself with Elder Maxson’s liquor cabinet.

Elder Maxson himself was, for the moment, nowhere to be seen, but the door of what appeared to be the bathroom was slightly ajar, and the faint sound of running water could be heard. 

Haylen looked around, too nervous to take a seat at the dining table. The room was rather cluttered, and Maxson’s massive suit of T-60 Power Armour, painted with his personal insignia, took up most of the space in one corner. Final Judgement, Maxson’s beloved laser gatling, was mounted proudly on a heavy-duty weapons rack beside it.

There was an awkward silence, during which Paladin Mags said she needed to sit down, and returned to her seat at the dining table. Just then, the door to the washroom opened, and Maxson appeared. He was wearing his battlecoat, as usual, and his beard looked as if it had been trimmed and tidied just a little. Not, Haylen thought, that he ever looked untidy on a normal day.

“Ad Victoriam, Elder.” 

Unsure of what was deemed appropriate, she held out her hand, expecting a handshake. To her, as dear Danse would probably have put it, ‘shock and awe’, he took her hand in his, before bending his head down and and kissing it.

“Ad Victoriam, Scribe. Please, take a seat.”

Over at the table, Paladin Brandis was watching Elder Maxson with an exasperated expression, and Paladin Mags wore the most insufferable smirk on her face that made Haylen want to slap her.

As the Elder sat down, Haylen reached across the table and placed her hands over his.

“Just… tell me one thing, Elder, and then I’ll consider your offer.”

“Fair enough, Scribe. Please, go on.” He said, his pale, serious eyes darting up.

“Why the hell did you turn your back on Paladin Danse like that?”

_There, I said it. I needed to do that. Oh God, I’m really in for it now…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I didn't mean to end it on such a cliffhanger, but there you go. Stay tuned for more Awkward Elder Maxson content. Once again, I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks so much for reading!Your comments are very much appreciated. 
> 
> To be continued...


End file.
